StarCrossed: A Parody
by somedayangeline
Summary: How do you satirize satire? I'm not sure, but I thought I'd give it a try. Also, these aren't my characters; I'm just borrowing them.


_Star-Crossed: A Parody_

The Patrician kept the Starbucks CEO waiting exactly twenty-two minutes and fifteen seconds, having sized him up beforehand as a man who could be kept waiting that length of time, before he would begin to detonate. If that happened, more holes would likely be punched in the wall, and the wall was getting rather worn in places. Any more detonating, and it would start to cave in.

So it was that precisely twenty-two minutes and fifteen seconds after noon, the CEO was ushered into the Patrician's inner sanctum. As he entered, he noted that the Patrician rose, not from the gold throne, but from an ordinary wooden chair. "I trust you found your way here with no difficulty," he was saying.

"Er…yes, but…a little while ago, I heard a bang? While I was waiting. And I looked out and something exploded?"

"Ah, the sundial. It does that every noon. Don't worry."

"But…but," the CEO stammered. "Every noon?"

"Yes. It was designed by Leonard of Quirm. Which is precisely why it still has a few glitches to work out." The Patrician paused, and for the first time, the CEO became aware of a dusty looking mop snuffling around his host's feet. "Is that your dog?"

"This is Wuffles. Wuffles, go sit. Sit." The Patrician pointed one long finger in the irection of a very old piece of rug. .

"So what brings you here today?" the Patrician inquired blandly, but the CEO didn't relax.

"As I mentioned before, I'm the creator and president of the successful coffee chain Starbucks out of Seattle, Washington, the U.S…..er, that is Planet Earth."

"I see," the Patrician said. As usual, he was paying more attention to the spaces in between the words, that is what was not being said. Some people left a lot unsaid; others didn't. So far, he assumed the CEO was in the latter category.

"In the mid-Eighties, I began to formulate a plan. Back then, coffee was strictly a breakfast drink. An un-glamorous breakfast drink. Back then, coffee was strictly for adults. Not teens, not kids. Now, however, people of all ages, from all walks of life, regularly make Starbucks a part of their day." He looked at the Patrician, who remained impassive. "Tell me, approximately how many cafes offer gourmet coffee in your city."

"I would have to say exactly none," the Patrician admitted. "But there happens to be a good reason for that."

"Which is…."

"You spoke of how important customer service is to your company. How you strive to make every customer's experience a positive one."

The CEO nodded proudly.

"…..however, if there is any kind of motto in the Ankh-Morpork restaurant industry, it's _A big enough tip, and I'll try not to gob in your beverage_."

The CEO looked horrified.

"Which makes sense. Don't you agree?"

"I suppose. But what do you think of opening a Starbucks in Ankh-Morpork?"

"Hmm. For some reason, I have acquired a reputation as being rather devious," the Patrician continued. "But in truth, I believe honesty is the best policy. Don't you?"

The CEO nodded.

"Speaking honestly, I don't think Starbucks has much of a chance. However, you are free to try. And who knows? Miracles do happen."

After the CEO departed, the Patrician permitted himself a small smile.

"This should be interesting," he said.

And so it was, that Starbucks came to Ankh-Morpork.

Or more accurately, Starrbuckes came.

After purchasing insurance from both the Thieves Guild and the Arsonists' Guild, as well as paying Foul Old Ron his standard fee to stay far, far away from the vicinity of the tempting odors of fresh brewed gourmet coffee, Starbucks (or Starrbuckes) was ready for business.

Inside the Watch tower, Sergeant Fred Colon and Corporal "Nobby" Nobbs were contemplating their takeout cups with skepticism.

"Say, this coffee doesn't take right," Nobby said, after a long swallow. "Where're all the burnt crunchy bits, like the joe you get a Harga's House of Ribs? Those are the best part. Have one cup, and you'll be tasting it for the rest of the day. And night. And the next day, too."

"Maybe they just forgot," Colon suggested, after sampling his. "Whoa….this is sweet. What do you suppose is in here?"

"Dunno," Nobby said. "It's not bad coffee, strictly speaking. It's just not very good neither. I wonder why the Patrician approved this café in the first place…."

Meanwhile in the cafe itself:

"Welcome to Starbucks, sir, may I take your order?" The perky barrista looked with trepidation at what appeared to be an actual ape, or more accurately a 200 plus orangutan in front of her.

"Ook!" the Librarian agreed blinking. He didn't, as a rule, patronize such brightly lit establishments. In fact, he wasn't sure if there were any in existence in Ankh-Morpork. Until this one, which gave new meaning to the term painfully clean.

"What can I get you today?"

"Ook!"

"And what size?"

"Ook!"

"Sir, I'm afraid that we don't have any that large? How about a venti?"

"Ook. Ook."

"Would you like a shot with that?"

"Ook!"

"I mean, a syrup shot."

"Ook. Ook, ook."

"I'd recommend the vanilla then. Or the hazelnut. And would you like whip with that?"

"Ook!"

"That's whipped cream."

"Ook. Ook, ook, ook."

"Then your total comes to 2.5….."

"Oook!"

"No, I didn't make a mis…."

"Oook!"

"No, I….."

"Oook!"

"Well…let's just say seventy-five cents is enough. Thank you, sir, and you have a good day now!"

"What can I get you today?" the barrista asked the rather shady-looking man before her.

Cut Me Own Throat Dibbler looked skeptically at the menu. "You're charging 2.50 for a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, sir, we are."

"And people are paying that much?"

"Yes, sir. We offer nothing but the highest quality beverages. Would you like to try a cup for yourself?" After just an hour and a half of serving Ankh-Morpokians, the barrista was rapidly losing her perkiness.

"Actually, I had a business proposition."

"Oh?"

"I noticed that you don't have much in the way of lunch items. No offense, but those pastries don't look very filling. You need to sell something that will really stick to the ribs. Like my sausage in a bun."

The barrista stared at him. By now, a rather long line had formed. She could tell immediately that this guy would not be easily deterred. "Why don't you come back this afternoon, and someone will discuss it with you then." It was not a question. She turned to the next customer, a rather seedy-looking man and pasted on a smile. "What can I get you today, sir?"

"I don't know. Hey, Tulip!" he shouted to a man who was doing something odd with the sugar packets. "What would you like?"

"Sir?" the barrista said, "Sir, please tell your friend not to pour the sugar into his nose. It's actually meant to flavor your coffee. If he keeps doing that, I can't be held res…."

"This is --ing great," Mr. Tulip said. "What's in the --ing brown packet?"

"That's organic sugar." The barrista sighed. "Sir, what can I get for you?"

Mr. Pim studied the menu. "I can't pronounce half these words. How do I know you're not going to cheat me, if I don't even know what this stuff is?"

"If you need a minute to decide, why don't you just….."

"No, wait." He turned to Mr. Tulip. "Come over here, would you?"

Mr. Tulip, leaving a grainy trail behind him, wandered up to the counter. "Let's get just a plain --ing cuppa, okay? If it's not too much --ing trouble."

"Certainly, sir. Coming right up." She'd never been so glad to see the end of a shift nearly in sight.

"Good morning. Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson of the Watch. And this is my partner Angua. We're just here to make sure your café is in accordance with the city regulations. From what I've seen so far, it looks like you're well within them."

"Er, thank you," the barrista said.

"If you have any problems at all, be sure to let us know," Carrot continued.

"Uh, well, there's this man who wants us to sell his….."

"…sausages in a bun. Yes, that's Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler. A very enterprising man. But harmless. Unless you actually sample one of his wares. Which I wouldn't recommend, unless you're up-to-date on your vaccinations."

"I'll keep that in mind," the barrista said. "Also, there was this man who came in earlier and started pouring sugar into his nose."

"That would be Mr. Tulip," Angua explained. "Just another Ankh-Morpork eccentric. He's tried for years to develop a drug problem, but the only problem he has is that he never manages to get a hold of any real drugs."

"I see," the barrista repeated. "Do all Ankh-Morporkians use the word --ing?"

"Actually, they tend to use the whole epithet," Angua explained.

"Ankh-Morpork takes some getting used to," Carrot said. "It did me when I first arrived here. But eventually, it grows on you."

_Sure. Like a fungus,_ the barrista thought.

"At first, you wonder if perhaps the residents are insane in the clinical sense, but then you come to understand that a kinder term is colorful. But like I said, you get used to it. Since I'm here, may I get a tall latte?"

The next customer was even taller than Carrot and wearing a dark hooded robe. For some reason, he gave the barrista a brief shivery feeling, but she shook it off. It must be the air-conditioning.

"Hello, and what can I get you today?"

"I'M NOT SURE. GIVE ME A MOMENT."

"Of course, sir. Take your time."

"IF YOU PLEASE, WHAT IS A FRAPPUCINO?"

Greatly relieved that this was a question she could answer in her sleep, she explained.

"Hey," a little girl in the line said, "that's Death. Mommy, look, it's Death!"

"Sssh, it's not polite to make personal remarks," the mother said oblivious to who the hooded figure in front of her really was.

The barrista turned pale. "Are you….Death?" she stammered.

"AS A MATTER OF FACT, YES, I AM."

The barrista gripped the counter. "You're Death?"

"YES. YOU KNOW, I THINK I WILL GET A GRANDE FRAPPUCINO. A CARAMEL ONE. NO WHIPPED CREAM, THOUGH. MUST WATCH THOSE CALORIES."

_But you're skin and bones_, the barrista thought. _A skeleton_.

"It's all right," the little girl said, "he's off-duty. Right, Mr. Death?"

"I AM ALWAYS ON DUTY. BUT I AM NOT HERE TO USHER ANYONE INTO THE AFTERLIFE. JUST TO SAMPLE YOUR FINE BEVERAGES."

"Great," the barrista muttered. She went to fill Death's order.

"How's your new enterprise going?" the Patrician inquired, although being the Patrician, he already had a good idea.

"Well," the CEO said, "so far, three of our staff have quit, two without any notice. The last ran off after waiting on the Duck Man – by the way, why does he have a duck on his head? Isn't it a little messy?"

"I've never asked," the Patrician said. "Have you considered hiring native Ankh-Morporkians?"

"You want me to hire a troll? Or a werewolf? I'm not sure that either would project the right image….."

"Well, that's up to you."

"Oh, I don't have anything against the non-human element in the city," the CEO added hastily. "Some of my best customers are non-human. Ouch!"

"Pardon?"

"Your dog just bit me."

"Wuffles, go sit down."

After the CEO left, the Patrician shook his head.

"Three months," he said. "Tops. Ankh-Morpork isn't ready yet for gourmet coffee. Much less gourmet coffee and stellar customer service."

As it happened, the Patrician was off in his estimate

But only by a few days.

The end


End file.
